Keep Your Hair Uncut
by devon380black
Summary: Midsummer's Eve. A whisper. A sentiment. "Keep your hair uncut."


The soft swish of dresses as they caress the floor. The incessant buzzing of people talking. The tinkling of champagne glasses. These are the sounds which greet Draco as he steps into the large house for the Midsummer Eve's Ball.

He tries not to sneer at the loud laughter coming from someone suspiciously looking like a Weasely. There's no time to be prejudiced anymore, he chides himself.

He makes his way through the crowd, stopping here and there for the customary handshake and hello. Must keep appearances, his mother had told him. It was best for business. It was best for survival.

He takes a champagne glass of one of the waiters and takes a sip.

Despite what sources might say, one of Draco's favorite drinks was champagne. Sweet and fruity, not enough to knock you out. Perfect drink for when you want to keep alert. Not that he couldn't handle stronger alcohol, he just wanted to appear social.

Social.

The very word makes him shudder. Truth be told, he had become a recluse since his father was sent to Azkaban and the family fortune was seized until further recommendation from the Ministry.

Those idiots.

He shakes his head as if to dispel his thoughts. He takes a sip from the glass and takes a glance at his surroundings.

There's a crowd of people to his left by the entrance, he guesses that it might be because of Potter. People were still hanging around him after his defeat of Voldemort. It didn't bother him as much; Potter could take all the attention if he had his way. But there were still those who didn't accept Draco Malfoy.

Case in point just arrived at the Ball.

Dressed in a modest dark blue strapless gown. Hermione Granger scans the room, sees him and narrows her eyes. He responds with a raised eyebrow. She huffs and continues looking for someone, her friends probably. The crowd parts and Harry approaches her with a hug. He can see the smile she gives to Potter. Her brow relaxed, her face happy. He wonders if he'll ever see that face looking that way at him.

He decides to go about the room and mingle. It would be a waste to not seize the opportunity to extend social niceties and reinforce Malfoy connections.

The band strikes up a tune. A jovial dance tune. He gives it no mind, preferring to talk with a client.

It's not until the host's wife asks the band to stop the music does he glance at them. She takes out her wand and points it at her throat, just like Dumbledore used to in Hogwarts.

"Hello merry folks! I hope you're all enjoying the party.", she stops to smile at the crowd.

"In the spirit of Midsummer's Eve, there is a custom I would like us all to celebrate. If you please?"

Hearty agreement is heard all around.

"Let's see... I need all the unmarried young ladies and gentlemen... to gather near me."

Draco allows himself to be caught in the tide of young adults walking to the center of the crowd. He is unmarried after all. Plus, it would be best to indulge the hostess; she was largely responsible for cementing his new business venture.

He hears a murmur around him and blinks back to the present. He notices that the men have lined up on one side and opposite them are the ladies. There is no one in front of him.

Ha!

Look how far the mighty have fallen.

He turns to leave the line but the hostess calls his name.

"Draco, darling, where are you going?"

"I'm sorry Matilde. As you can see I have no partner.", he gestures in front of him.

"Nonsense! Is there no lady who would deign to join this gentleman in a dance? Surely there must be a lady for our dear Mr. Malfoy...", she tries to coax from the crowd.

Then...

"Over here."

Quickly followed by a thud and an exclamation.

"Hermione, you didn't have to hit me! I was just telling the truth.", Potter's voice carries through the quietly murmuring crowd.

"Ah yes, Hermione. Come here, child", Matilde calls to her.

The crowd disperses and he sees a frowning Hermione approaching the line of ladies. She's obviously hesitant to be partnered with him but her innate nature to follow instructions overrides her displeasure. She wants to be polite to the hostess. Draco stops the smirk from appearing on his face. He schools his expressions to a mask of indifference. He doesn't want her to find latch on to something he did which she would later use to disprove him.

"Now, you all know how Midsummer is celebrated. But we can't have bonfires in the house so we will just have the next best thing. There will be a Viennese waltz. And in place of the bonfire we will have this."

With a flourish of her wand, crowns of calendula flowers appeared on each lady.

"You can't see it now but they are charmed to look like fire.. Do not be afraid. They will not burn you."

Hermione reaches up and touches the crown. Her hair is pulled back, leaving her face clear from those dreadful locks. But instead of a bun, she had opted to let her curls fall to her back.

"Maestro, begin please.", Matilde says.

The first notes begin and Draco bows before Hermione and extends his hand. For a moment, he thinks that she won't push through but she nods and places her hand in his.

Thus they begin. His left hand clasping her right; the other at ther back. Her hair tickling the back of his hand where it touches him.

Every twirl around the floor they make is accentuated by the crown of calendula lighting up in flames. The first time it happens, Hermione tenses in his arms. He assures her that she isn't on fire. She's about to say something but he shushes her up by telling her to concentrate on the dance. Her eyes light up and she's looking at him closely, almost as if his face holds the last unpublished book of her favorite author.

They don't speak to each other after that; they concentrate on their steps. He doesn't look at her. For isn't that how the waltz is danced? Each partner not looking at each other?

Her hair tickles his hand so he adjusts his hold on her, almost squashing the curls to her back. He's amazed at the texture he feels. It's soft and silky smooth. He would have bet that it would be brittle and rough as twigs in his hand, what with how it looked in school.

But he remembers that time in fourth year where she shocked everyone with how she looked. She was very pretty then. And he can't help himself from admitting that she was very beautiful now.

But it's a secret he keeps to himself. One of the many he keeps hidden.

He likes her hair. He likes how unruly it makes her looks. It matches her nature. She is so spirited, he muses.

He likes how she looks. How her eye's light up when she knows a particular answer or solution. How she bites her lip when she's thinking. How she doesn't care how she looks but is still modest and trying to be tidy in spite of her mess-head hair. How she smiles when she sees her friends. How she's kind to everyone, even magical creatures who he thought didn't deserve anything but now is his only hope that she will someday like him. Because if she can like them, even the lowest scum, then maybe just maybe, one day, she'll like him too.

He likes her.

That's the most important secret of all. One he'll never tell. Because who would think that Draco Malfoy likes Hermione Granger? They'd all just laugh at him and tell him to dream on. She'd probably think he was mad or something.

No, he won't say anything.

He'll just have to content himself with this. Holding her in his arms in a dance. Not talking to each other. Just being aware of how she is, how she moves, how she breathes.

The music ends too soon. There is applause all around. His hand has not left her back, the curls still between him and her dress. He turns to her and says softly.

"Keep your hair uncut."

He twirls a curl in his fingers before taking his hand off of her back. He turns back and makes his way to the doors. It's time for him to leave. He knows she hasn't heard him. The applause swallowed his whisper.

He's at the doors when he turns around and takes one final look at her. She's smiling at the hostess, probably thanking her for the crown of calendula flowers.

How fitting.

Calendula meaning sorrow or sympathy. Also, "my thoughts are with you".

_My thoughts are with you, Hermione._

He allows the truth to leak. A sad smile appears on his face. He opens the door and leaves.


End file.
